


Glowing Green

by MissBrainProblems



Category: Parahumans Series - Wildbow
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-16
Updated: 2019-11-16
Packaged: 2021-02-07 12:23:30
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,549
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21458008
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MissBrainProblems/pseuds/MissBrainProblems
Summary: Hannah considers her life over a cup of coffee.
Comments: 2
Kudos: 12





	Glowing Green

Hannah didn't quite understand what the emotions she felt bubbling in her heart were, but she knew that she didn't like them. She was in her civilian garb, sitting out on the patio of some fancy coffee shop that charged way too much for glorified bean juice; the Protectorate didn't pay enough for her to live in a mansion, but her salary was enough that she could afford to splurge on something like that every once in a while. In spite of her cynicism, the coffee was actually pretty great; it had been carefully brewed by hand with high-quality beans that had been expertly roasted and ground to the perfect consistency. Unfortunately, the view from where she sat in her expensive-looking patio chair was not that great; two lovers, on the opposite side of the shop's courtyard, sitting right next to each other and flirting like they had not a single care in the world. Hannah lifted the engraved ceramic that served as her coffee cup to her lips, and took a small drink from it. The coffee was black, without any sugar or creamer; it was bitter, to say the least, and Hannah idly wondered about whether or not the metaphor she had just come up with in her head was too on the nose.

She shook her head as she placed the coffee cup back onto its ceramic platter, looking away from the couple and out onto the streets of downtown Brockton Bay. How long had it been since she had been transferred to the city, once her tenure under the Triumvirate was over? Years now, of course; years in one place, in one city, amongst the same people, getting to know them, to grow close to them, and yet... And yet what, Hannah? She was dancing around the subject, and she knew it; she didn't want to admit to herself what the emotions were, because it would be... A sign of weakness? Fragility? Vulnerability? She was supposed to be Miss Militia, after all, the second in command of the Brockton Bay Protectorate, and a woman who regularly participated in Endbringer fights; she couldn't be seen as fragile, not in that sort of way.

And yet, the feelings were still there, even if she didn't want them to be. It would have been easier, if she wasn't forced to compare to others on a daily basis. There was Ethan and Jamie, of course; the two lovebirds flirted in their own, slightly sarcastic way whenever they were in the same room, to the point that even Shawn and Robin took issue with it. She knew that Rory had been tentatively chatting with Sam over in New York, and Hannah wondered what might happen if the two ever met up. Shawn had been divorced twice, but Hannah was sure that he wasn't letting Addison stop him from getting back into the dating scene. She didn't quite know about Robin, but Hannah knew that even Colin had... Something going on with Dragon; the woman wasn't quite sure what exactly was happening with the two of them, but it was clear that there was something resembling romance there. Even the Director was married, apparently, though Hannah wondered what sort of relationship that must have been.

Even in the Wards, there was Dean, what with his on-again, off-again relationship to Victoria Dallon; then, of course, there was the _entirety_ of New Wave, an extended family of people in committed relationships. Carol and Mark, Sarah and Neil; even Mike, retired by that point, had Jess, before her tragic passing. She didn't know if Amy, Eric, or Crystal were dating anyone, but she wouldn't have been too surprised if they were. All of them would be good-looking to other teenagers, and there was no small supply of cape groupies to pick from if they wanted to go that route; the thought came into Hannah's head, and she spent far longer considering it than she wanted to before drowning it in a large gulp of her coffee. None of the other Wards aside from Dean were dating, as far as she knew; much like the New Wave kids, though, Hannah was sure that they'd all be successful if they put themselves out there. Sophia had personality issues, but her aggression could be an asset in the realm of relationships, and Hannah was sure that most kids at Winslow would find the girl attractive. Carlos was confident, charming, and straightforward, the sort of qualities that would make Hannah fall for someone ten years older than the boy in question. Chris had problems keeping his head on straight, but he was a sweet kid, and even Dennis could be kind when he wasn't busy putting up a front of sarcastic indifference. Missy... Well, Missy was too young for that just then, but maybe a few years afterward she would be able to wrap people around her finger.

So, what about her? What _about_ her? What _about_ Hannah? Why was she sitting there, thinking on all of those things while she sipped up the liquid from her coffee cup? Once more, she knew the answer to that particular question, knew why her eyes kept drifting back to the couple sitting a few tables away. Hannah was _lonely_, and not even in a strictly romantic way, either. She had her colleagues at the Protectorate, had the Wards that she looked after, but she didn't... Let alone lovers, Hannah didn't really have any _friends_, either. She had people she worked with, people she passed in the halls, and yes, maybe, people she fought side-by-side with on the battlefields of the cape world, comrades-in-arms; but she didn't have _companions_. God, she had barely spoken to her adoptive family since she had moved to Brockton; how were her Mama and Papa, she wondered, and why hadn't she bothered to call them in so long? Were they worried about her? Did they follow any of the news that showed Miss Militia fighting against villains and bad guys? And why did she keep trying to distract herself from the _central_ point of her worries?

Not sleeping, she figured, as a large part of her inability to connect with others. It was an odd thing, that most normal people didn't think about, how central the simply act of _sleeping_ was to human community and relationships. Even if you and the other person didn't sleep in the same bed together, there was this odd, slightly confusing camaraderie that came from knowing that the two of you were asleep at the same time, a camaraderie that Hannah hadn't even noticed until it was gone, lost after her trigger event and her vision of the creatures flying through space. She had tried not to talk about it much, seeing the way that people grew distant and looked at her differently when they found out that she was awake virtually all of the time. If she did enter a relationship, though, how would her partner feel, knowing that Hannah wasn't asleep next to them in bed, that Hannah wasn't there to hold her partner or be held in turn? What sort of effect would her parahuman insomnia have on a romantic relationship like that? Even if they didn't think that she was a freak for not needing to sleep - and even if they never said it out loud, like how most didn't - would they feel put off by the fact that Hannah couldn't sleep with them?

Not that the other sense of the phrase "sleep with" hadn't been crossing Hannah's mind, either. She was lonely in heart, certainly, but she was also lonely in body. The last time she had been physically intimate with someone had been... College, years ago, some lover whose name she couldn't even remember by that point. God, maybe that was why she was so alone, the fact that she couldn't even remember the names of everybody she had been in a relationship with. There had been Leo, before - Chevalier, back during the Inaugural Wards days - who had been her first in several different ways. It had never ended up to be much, and probably would never have been the ideal relationship that Hannah was pining for at that moment, but it was a fond memory all the same. She wondered, idly, if she might fly down to Philadelphia to see Leo again, maybe go out to dinner with him for a night, maybe go back to his apartment, and then maybe... Hannah watched as the two lovers in front of her kissed for a moment, their eyelids fluttering and their cheeks turning crimson; Hannah herself felt her face flush, felt other parts of her body respond to the thoughts, imaginings, and fantasies that her mind was processing through.

God, what was she, a pervert? Some kind of voyeur, getting turned on by watching other people lock lips like that? Hannah turned her attention to the now nearly empty coffee cup, only a thin pool of the dark liquid sitting at the bottom, Rather than finish off the drink, though, the woman opted to stare intently at the coffee; out of the corner of her eye, she watched as the lovers pick up their things and headed off to... Headed off to... Somewhere. A place where they would be alone together, where they would hold each other, kiss each other some more, tell each other how much they loved one another, bare their hearts and bodies both, and allow themselves to be weak, fragile, and vulnerable in the midst of that precious, enviable atmosphere that they would create together; a place that Hannah wished that she could be, not theirs, but a similar setting even so, one that she and another person would build side-by-side, so that they, too, would be able to do all of those things.

She finished off the last bit of coffee, and looked back up, her sight now availed of the couple that had been haunting her for the past ten or fifteen minutes; now free to look around, though, Hannah's eyes settled on some employee of the coffee shop that had come out to clean the table the lovers had left some trash on. Not gorgeous, but still attractive, and Hannah didn't mind, either way, didn't really have the opportunity to be picky with that stuff, anyways. Should she take this opportunity? Should Hannah just go up and ask for a number, or offer a number, or even say something like "Hey, I'm Miss Militia, the superhero, and I want to take you out on a date."? No, of course not, Hannah. Of course not. The first time she had seen that person was less than a minute ago, and yet Hannah's mind was running the gamut, thinking about that potential first date, the potential first night after the potential first date, the potential relationship, the potential proposal, the potential marriage, the potential growing old together... Hannah felt pathetic. Was that how low she was, that she was going to enact elaborate fantasies based off of some random coffee shop employee?

She stood up from her seat, the metal of the chair scraping as it pushed back along the concrete. Doing her best to not look at the employee, Hannah picked up her garbage - maybe that would make her seem more conscientious, more desirable? - before grabbing her ceramic dishes and making her way to the inside of the coffee shop. That route, unfortunately, took her right by the employee, who _smiled _directly at her. No, Hannah, it's not an attempt at flirting. It's a standard thing that all service employees do, to make people feel welcome and appreciated as a customer. It's nothing out of the ordinary. Holding her breath without even realizing it, Hannah deposited the trash into the proper bin and the ceramics onto an area meant for them to be placed on once they were done being used. She desperately tried to ignore the "Thank you, have a good day!" that came from another one of the employees, desperately tried to stop her rampant romantic delusions as she nodded, gave a muttered thanks of her own under her breath, and half-dashed out of the coffee shop. God, but she probably looked like an _idiot_ after that, or even _rude_, maybe. Could she ever go back to that coffee shop? Probably not. They would remember her as that weird lady that mumbled and ran out of the door, more than likely, and-

Hannah stopped herself, made sure that she wasn't in anyone's way, and closed her eyes. It was a technique that Doctor Yamada had taught her - Maybe Jessica? No, that would be unprofessional. - about how she could calm herself whenever she felt anxious. Deep breaths, focusing on the feeling of the air going into her lungs and then coming back out. It had seemed like hokey junk, at first, when Doctor Yamada told her about the technique, but it had worked almost every time that Hannah had tried to use it. Refocusing herself, she re-opened her eyes, looking out again onto the streets of Brockton Bay. The way she had been acting was not her. It was not Hannah. More importantly, it was not _Miss Militia_. Pining after everything in sight, fantasizing about everyone she saw, letting anxiety overtake her like that? That was _not_ who she was. It was emotions, taking hold, trying to drag her down. Loneliness, jealousy, envy; it was all of those feelings grabbing onto her, and not letting her go. But she was stronger than that, _Hannah_ was stronger than that, and she wasn't about to let those emotions make her weak, fragile, and vulnerable.

...and yet, as she started walking down the sidewalk away from the coffee shop, all that Hannah could think was that - regardless of everything else - she wanted to _be able_ to be weak from time to time, that she wanted to _be able_ to be fragile every once in a while, and that she wanted to _be able_ to be vulnerable to the right person, at the right time. But putting herself out there to be able to even have a _chance_ at having all of that would be so... So... It would be so _what_, Hannah? She didn't want to answer that question, of course, so Hannah opted to merely sigh, shake her head, and continue putting one foot in front of the other, trying to think of other things as she made her way through the city. In the back of her pocket, though, she could feel her weapon shifting rapidly in response to her broiling emotions, changing into a wide variety of objects meant for use in a number of different combat situations. The omnipresent nature of that odd weapon had usually given the woman a certain peace of mind, knowing that she had a pistol or a knife that could appear in her hand at a moment's notice if someone tried to attack her on the streets, that she always had something that she could defend herself with; at that moment and at that time, though, the heroine felt as if all of the security that her powers usually gave her had instead been stripped away, and had left only Hannah behind.


End file.
